


Witcher-Jutsu: Yours and Mime

by Foodmoon



Series: Oddball fics [36]
Category: Naruto, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Do not share for profit, Don't take Kakashi's philosophy as a good idea kids, Gen, I'm going to tag this later ok?, M/M, Mentions of sex concubinage killing and slavery which is why it's not tagged for gen audiences, This world has less rampant bigotry than the Witcher world, When my brain isn't totally fried from 12+hrs of riding herd on kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foodmoon/pseuds/Foodmoon
Summary: I was tired and teary, so I threw Kakashi and Geralt together in a world similar to Geralt's to amuse myself. Description/idea in top notes, cuz it wouldn't fit here in the summary.I'm gonna mark this complete, but don't kill me if I add to it at some later point.
Relationships: Implied pre-slash Kakashi|Přemek/Geralt, Kakashi|Přemek & Geralt
Series: Oddball fics [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/938265
Comments: 23
Kudos: 121





	Witcher-Jutsu: Yours and Mime

**Author's Note:**

> What if…? Geralt doesn’t make it to canon in his world? Instead, an encounter with a vindictive mage sends him spiraling through time and space and lands him in a world very similar but not identical to his world. They don’t have witchers, but they do have monster hunters. Monster hunters don’t have a good reputation, but at least it’s fairly rare that people try to cheat them out of their pay and no one knows Geralt as the Butcher. Most of the language is the same, but some words are different. Most of the monsters are the same or similar and most of them have the same or similar names, though a few have different names and some are entirely unknown to him or obvious variations from what he knows. They don’t have the Law of Surprise, but they do have some unorthodox methods of payment that are a rough parallel. And because I love picking on Kakashi… Unorthodox such as offering him his selection from among an assembled row of slaves, one with white hair, grey eyes, and a tatty scarf covering the bottom half of his face. Whom Geralt chooses because he at least looks like he can dodge if a monster tries to eat him. But who can’t speak the local language, and since no one’s ever heard a similar language, they assume he has some sort of speech issue and can understand a few commands if demonstrated with actions/gestures and repeated a few times, and simply tries to mimic speech with gibberish.

Geralt is a little…annoyed.

This world doesn’t have the Law of Surprise, unlike the very similar world he comes from, but it does have some equally eccentric payment alternatives available to the citizenry. Such as the row of slaves that has been lined up for his inspection to choose one from among them. Slavery outside of Nilfgaard and its suborned countries isn’t really a thing in the world he comes from.

Much like Witchers aren’t a thing in this world, but monster hunters are. He’s not really sure how to deal with it, to be quite frank. It’s honestly quite refreshing to be treated with a lack of hostility from those he takes contracts from and not have to deal with being frequently gypped out of at least part of his pay. Monster hunters don’t have the best of reputations, but they are treated with respect for how vital their profession is. And he isn’t known as ‘the Butcher’ in this world, which makes his life oh-so-much easier.

He eyes the line-up of slaves charily, wondering why exactly someone would think a monster hunter required or even wanted a slave. As bait, maybe? The women are impossible; he’s not about to take a woman out where there’s a high probability of being eaten by a monster. Of the three men, one looks like he’ll die of a heart attack if forced to travel constantly, another looks stupid enough to just stand there and be eaten, and the last is clearly a weirdo. He has white hair but what little of his face is visible is young (Geralt can relate). There’s a rough patch over one eye and a tatty scarf covers his lower face. There is an intelligent look in the grey eye that’s visible and something in the way he holds himself that bespeaks nimbleness at least. If nothing else, he’s scrawny enough that Roach will probably tolerate him on her back if he can’t keep up while walking.

The current Roach is a large blue roan, about the size of a draft horse, but carries herself like a dainty princess and is finicky about who she lets touch her, always ready with a striking hoof or snapping teeth. Not that he minds the last part, of course, since she tolerates him well enough and it’s a good deterrent for thieves. Though one of the idiosyncrasies of this world is that it doesn’t have a fish called ‘roach’, it has hard-shelled black and brown bugs called ‘roaches’ instead. They’re noted for how hard they are to get rid of, though, so he doesn’t really mind that difference.

“Him.” He says, jerking a thumb at the white haired slave.

The client looks surprised, but agreeable enough. “He’s a hard worker and strong, but you should be aware that he has some sort of speech defect that doesn’t allow him to properly understand or use speech. He mimics it with some sort of gibberish, though, and can understand simple commands if he’s heard them before. You’ll probably need gestures or to demonstrate new tasks so he knows what you’re asking of him.”

Geralt nods indifferently. Most likely the man is just a foreigner from another land; accents can be hell to understand. Though a type of speech impediment could be the cause as well. Maybe he got hit by lightning? His hair certainly looks like it has been, given the way it stands on end.

~

The slave keeps up with surprising ease; Geralt doesn’t even have to slow Roach’s gait for him to keep up. He doesn’t moan or complain either, though occasionally he’ll say something in a chatty tone, which generally seems to be some observation of the environment around them. Then there’s the fact that when they travel through wooded areas, he spends half his time hopping from tree to tree as easily as if walking on the ground (which it is _not_ , Geralt knows from personal experience, from that one time he tried to develop a more handy way to fight leshyans and instead ended up with a broken nose and spectacular scrapes and sprains for his trouble). And Geralt’s medallion vibrates the faintest bit every time he does so, which means the man is somehow using a bit of magic to tree walk so smoothly. Whether innate or intentional, though, he can’t tell.

Fortunately it’s a warm spring, neither too hot nor too cold, because it takes Geralt a few days to realize that the man literally has nothing but the clothes on his back and needs a waterskin and bedroll at the very least. He _may_ realize this by seeing the man crouch at a stream and use his hands to drink. Though how he manages it without removing his scarf or getting it wet is something of a mystery.

The man looks puzzled the first time he hands him a waterskin to refill when they make camp, but only until Geralt gestures at the stream and orders, “Go fetch water.” After that, the slave doesn’t wait for the order to comply, just fills the waterskin whenever Geralt hands it to him.

Over a few days’ time, Geralt notices that some of the gibberish sounds like words pronounced with the wrong emphasis, as if the man is teaching himself the language slowly, but still hasn’t mastered making even the most basic words intelligible to the average ear. Geralt’s hearing is _not_ average. ‘Uut orni’ is apparently ‘good morning’, ‘yahteh’ is ‘water’, and ‘wees al’ is ‘needs salt’. The last is accompanied by a grimace somehow conveyed by the small visible portion of his face, and an opinion Geralt thoroughly agrees with once he tastes the weak soup. He doesn’t seem to know other words, at least to speak, because it’s quite obvious that he understands more than a few words Geralt uses even without gestures involved.

It finally occurs to him a few hours out from the town he’s planning to stop in that he doesn’t know what the man looks like other than one grey eye and silvery, dandelion-tuft hair.

The slave leans back but doesn’t actually step back or dodge when Geralt reaches for his eye patch, flipping it up and then pulling the scarf down around his neck. _Curious_. With the entirety of his face visible, it’s terribly clear that the man is foreign to this area, confirming Geralt’s guess on the matter. His face is fine boned and a bit narrow, the foreign cast to his features not detracting from the delicate masculine beauty of it. It feels weird to label a man beautiful, so Geralt ignores that part and focusses on the scar that cuts through the lid of the still-closed eye. By the looks of it, it’s probable that he’s entirely lost sight in that eye, but not the eye itself.

“Can you see out of that eye?”

In response, the man opens the scarred eye, revealing a scarlet iris with little black commas slowly rotating around the pupil. It’s one of the eeriest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he keeps it covered. Whether he can see or not out of it is hardly the issue when anyone seeing the eye will think it cursed or given from a bargain with some evil entity. There’s the faintest vibration from his medallion, which makes him think it’s probably the product of magic rather than some evil bargain; it would almost certainly be reacting more strongly if the eye was from supernatural being.

“Hmm.”

The eye flinches shut and the slave flips down the patch again. Then he reaches to pull the scarf back up.

“No, leave that off. People will think you’re a criminal if you cover your face like that all the time.”

A distinctly sulky look overtakes the slave’s face, but he complies without hesitation.

“What’s your name?”

“Kawkye.” At least that’s what it _sounds_ like the slave says.

Geralt blinks and runs the sounds through his head. “I am not calling you ‘cock eye’.” He complains, gesturing as he speaks to demonstrate what the words mean.

There are a few seconds of blankness on ‘Kawkye’s face before he blushes brilliantly, picks some dry grass from the side of the road and cleverly twists it into a rough human-like figure and repeats, “Kawkye.”

“A scarecrow?” He hazards and is rewarded with a nod. “Hmm. I don’t know of a name that means that in this language. I’ll call you ‘Přemek’, since you’re clever.”

“PrehMEHK?”

“No, Přemek.”

“PREHmik?”

“Přemek.”

“PREHmehk?”

“Yes, Přemek.”

Přemek nods, a thoughtful look on his face.

Honestly, Geralt’s a bit startled at how fast he’s picked up the pronunciation. Perhaps he should start correcting his other words and see if Přemek starts sounding intelligible.

~

It takes approximately eleven minutes inside town before Geralt understands why Přemek dislikes leaving his face uncovered. The number of women staring with stunned expressions is enough to make even Geralt uncomfortable, and one middle aged man stalks up to Geralt and offers to buy Přemek as a concubine for one hundred and forty gold. That’s a _lot_ for a single villager to cough up. And Geralt dislikes the expression of resigned border-line distaste that Přemek is currently wearing.

“No.” He tells the man curtly.

“One hundred sixty gold.” The man counter offers.

“He’s not for sale.”

“Two hundred gold. And that’s my final offer!” The man coaxes.

“The answer is still ‘No’.”

“Hmph! Well, I suppose I can’t blame you for hoarding him to yourself.” The villager says in a miffed tone and stalks off.

Geralt rolls his eyes and reaches over to pull Přemek’s scarf up. This does not reduce the number of stunned gazes, but it at least stops the attracting of more such gazes. Then he goes shopping.

He ends up spending more than he intended, buying a couple sets of decent clothing so that Přemek looks less like a drudge and more like a normal commoner. That and a bedroll, a coat, a boar bristle brush, and two spare scarves later, Geralt grimaces as he hands over the coins. Well, he’ll just have to find a contract sooner, he supposes.

At least Přemek looks significantly cheerier after the purchases, huddling happily into the coat even though it’s far from cold enough to require a coat. He eyes Přemek, then decides against renting a room for the night. With Geralt’s luck, someone would try to sneak into their room to kidnap Přemek and then Geralt would be obliged to kill them on principle. No point in getting a nasty reputation over a night out of the elements.

(As if to mock him, it begins drizzling rain a little over an hour after they leave town and continues to drizzle well into the night.)

~

If Kakashi is a bit startled by Geralt refusing to sell him for a clear profit when it’s extremely obvious that he in no way requires a slave, he’s downright _floored_ when Geralt proceeds to outfit him as one might an unfortunate companion in _his_ world instead of leaving him in the mostly adequate slave clothes of _this_ world.

Becoming a slave had been more the side effect of how he’d arrived in this world _(immediately passing out for three days had not been his best moment, but chakra exhaustion is a bitch)_ than anything traumatic, but he’d quickly picked up on the fact that it was probably better to play along until he could communicate properly. Also, chakra was a little different in this world and it had taken him some time to adjust to the differences, since he hasn’t had much opportunity to practice without frightening others, which would be counterproductive currently.

When Geralt sets up a small tent for the night and pushes Kakashi in before following him, Kakashi decides that he really doesn’t mind the man and a little sex is a fair enough exchange for the courtesy. But then Geralt just lays down and sleeps, the tight confines of the space meaning Kakashi is pressed up against him. As the big man’s body heat seeps into his skin and then his bones, Kakashi finds that he actually _appreciates_ the man. He kind of reminds him of Gai, if Gai were gruff and rude, used twin swords, had unruly white hair and sometimes smelled vaguely of onions instead of curry.

Though, weirdly, he gets the impression that Geralt might be strangely pacifistic outside of his profession of killing monsters. _(Kakashi has yet to see Geralt kill anything more intimidating than rabbits and a few fish.)_ Well, that’s alright. Though he prefers to avoid it, Kakashi has absolutely nothing against killing humans should it become necessary. Geralt won’t have to lift a finger if he doesn’t want to. It’s not like Kakashi has anywhere better to be in this world, or anything more interesting to do than follow a monster hunter with cat eyes around.

**Author's Note:**

> Přemek: A diminutive of Přemysl, which is from an old Slavic name that meant "trick, stratagem", from _pre_ "over" and _mysli_ "thought, idea".
> 
> Credit goes to my sister for coming up with the title for this fic. Puns entirely intended. _(I figured I shouldn't go with my only idea which was 'Cranky and Troll'.)_


End file.
